Chapter 129

“This farm needs you. I need you! We all need you. God, I-I can't lose another person in my life. This isn't fair. Grandfather, please.” He pleaded with the old man.
Xander felt helpless. He was not good with illness, with the dying, with the dead. He hadn't even been able to attend Grandmother's funeral. His mother had told him how distraught he had been as a little boy, standing before his dead father's casket, shaking him to wake up.
“Grandmother needs me more.” Was the soft, labored reply.
“Let me go Xander. I miss her. I need to be with her. You will not be alone. I promise. Be a good boy and take care of the farm for me. See that the sapling grows big and strong so that your own children seek its shelter and wisdom. So that your grandchildren will climb it. Take care, my boy. You are a gifted young man. Your mother turned her back on the Earth, but I know in my heart that you will not. You must restart the cycle.” He whispered.
His grandfather was talking gibberish and making no sense. The sound of the sirens was growing closer and he knew finally help would be here. There was an incessant tugging on his arm. Xander pivoted on his knee and glared at the girl. She let go and rose from the floor, pointing.
He shielded his eyes as his jaw dropped open. A beautiful woman stood before them. She was taller than he, had intense green eyes, and long flowing silver-white hair. She was glowing. A bright light haloed her entire body and she was moving purposefully towards them.
“What the hell?” Xander reached out and connected with Mistletoe's hand. She had scooted beside him, giving him her strength.
“My sweet boy.” The familiar voice announced. She looked almost like Grandmother. But that couldn't be. Xander argued in his head. Grandmother was dead.
“Willy-nilly.” The woman used Grandmother's term of endearment for him. He dropped Mistie's hand and watched the woman. She squatted down beside him and stroked his cheek with her glowing fingertips.
“Gran- Grandmother?” He choked out. She nodded, a serene smile on her face.
“Do not be frightened, Xander. I have come to bring Grandfather home with me. I have been away from him for far too long. He has done right by me, by my kind, by Earth Mother. It is now your destiny to continue his work. Help to seed this land. Nurture the earth, tend to the fields, heal the animals. I have brought someone to help you do that.” She swept her hand out and took Mistletoe's hand in hers, gently placing it in Xander's, then leaned over and kissed Xander's brow.
***
“Are I-I not to die with you, Mother-tree?” Mistletoe hesitated to ask, but seized the moment, needing validation for her own existence.
“Mistletoe you are not just a dryad, you know this. As a hamadryad, your life is connected to the beat of my heartwood.” The woman stood before her, but in Mistletoe's mind's eye she could see her tree speaking the words.
“I am to die, then?” Mistletoe whimpered.
“It is the way of our world.” She patiently explained.
"Because I have walked among the humans for so long and have released you of your bonds to me, you will be spared. You will become as one of them. I could not bear for your bright light to be extinguished with mine. The goddess granted me a boon and allowed you to remain. You must do her work, go forth and seed the earth with your children. You are a very special spirit, indeed. I have been blessed to have known you for so long.”
Her soft hand tenderly touched her cheek, but when Mistletoe closed her eyes she saw a leafy branch come down and mimic the gesture. The image of Mother-tree as she knew her was much more comforting than the human-like hand.
“I do not understand. I will be alone. I am afraid to be alone. This is not natural. I would rather cease to exist than to be without you.” Her lips trembled and she sighed as the hand/leaves swept her hair back from her face in a loving gesture. Human arms came around her and held her close.
“I have always wanted to hug you and comfort you this way, my dear child.” The tree-woman whispered in her ear.
“My branches and leaves are hard and harsh, not the softness and warmth of this human body. Weep not, little one.” She touched the girl's heart with her hand. A glow and warmth filled Mistletoe's entire being.
“I like your leaves and branches.” She pouted. “It is all I have ever known.”
“Now you will get to know the touch of skin upon yours.” The tree woman assured her. “Nothing can quite describe that feeling. Not the wind, nor the sun, nor the stars above you. Human touch can be healing.” Mistletoe nodded, resigned.
***
“No.” Xander shook his head, interrupting the exchange.
“No!” He said more fervently, ripping his hand away. Mistletoe's strength surprised him. She would not be shaken. “This is my life! I have school. I have friends. I want to travel, explore the world.”
All three pairs of eyes were looking at him with different expressions: his grandfather wore sympathy, his grandmother wore compassion, and the Mistletoe wore empathy. He threw his hands up. “What about my choice?”
The hamadryad's gentle hands caressed Xander's cheeks.
“Shh...” Mistletoe's soft voice beside him whispered. Xander was so caught up in his tirade he was missing the wondrous scene unfolding before him.
His grandmother reached her hand down and helped his grandfather to his feet. She held his hand, giving it a tender squeeze as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in closely. They kissed passionately.
“Ready, my love?” She whispered in his ear.
“More than ever. I am ready to become part of your world at last. Thank you, my goddess borne gift.” He whispered back.
“Shall we?” She smiled at him, love shining in her eyes.
“We shall.” He nodded. The two lovers, Xander's grandparents, turned and spoke in unison.
“Fair well, young ones. Let Love, Light, and Earth guide you.” With a glimmer of light, Xander and Mistletoe were alone.
No sound but the whisper of the breeze could be heard for miles around. The sirens had ceased their screeching. The emergency was over. It was as if his grandfather had never been. That was the empty feeling in the house, then Xander looked down upon the seemingly sleeping visage of his grandfather's face. He looked so peaceful in death. He shuddered, struck to the core at the oddness of it all. His shoulders slumped and grief filled him. The knock on the screened door, the words of the EMT, the sheet covering his grandfather's still body, barely registered in his brain. He had to call his mother.
“Grandfather is dead.” He held his cell phone to his ear, devoid of emotion as he announced his grandfather's death to his mother. She made an odd sound.
“Xander. Di-did...” His mother began. His hand trembled on the phone.
Mistletoe gently took the receiver from him. He stood, unblinking and unable to speak. She guided him to sit on the living room couch and returned to the kitchen and the phone.
***
“Harmony.” Mistletoe said softly, “I am sorry for the loss of your father.”
“Who is this?” Xander's mother asked. “How do you know my name?” Suspicion colored her voice.
“You know me.” Mistletoe replied. “You have always known me, Harmy.” The nickname jolted Harmony into recognition. She gasped.
“You. It can't be. You can't really be...” Harmony spoke slowly, trying to absorb. “My old frie- Mistie?”
“I am. Mother-tree came for her love. It is over.” Mistletoe sent healing with her words to the woman who had once been her dearest friend.
“But you were supposed to die with my mother.” The voice accused.
“Mother-tree's love and arrangement with the goddess allowed her to remain at her human love's side. When her earthly body died, she was returned to our tree to wait out the rest of her beloved's time here. When Mother-tree returned, so did I. I am alive.” Mistletoe patiently explained.
Wait!” The woman shouted. “Wait, you- my son. What are you doing with my son? Just leave him out of this. I will come home. I'll do what needs to be done. Spare him. Please. Spare him the agony.” Her anguished voice pleaded.
***
Harmony knew there was no turning back the clock. She knew she would never sing again. She always knew her son would be the one. She had protected him for so long. When he had shown interest in the farm; when he had shown interest in the forest; in the animals, in the song, she had tried her hardest to shield him. She had woven protection and wards around him which essentially had put his Earth-given gifts to sleep.
“It cannot be. Xander is meant for me. You know this, as I know this. It was sketched in the heartwood in the long-ago.” Mistletoe dropped her voice.
“Don't you remember? Mother-tree is gone. I am free. Xander will not have to know the kind of sorrow you have known, Harmony. He will not know the grief your father and mother knew. I will outlive him. I will take his pain from him. I will replace it with hope. Let your son go.” Mistletoe's voice implored. “I promise you he will be happy.”